Encrypted
by lumely
Summary: Memories are a fickle thing. They can be there one day and the next they aren't. For machines, fully sentient war machines, they can be backed up or wiped at anytime. Such a pity when there is a glitch that caused one machine to continuously see the same memory in a cycle. Until one day, that cycle breaks. (Re-uploaded to fix mistakes.)


**I**** will be honest guys. I'm going through a rough patch. Got things to do, things to deal with. I made another one shot to give you guys something to read.**

**War machines AU.**

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The field was golden with wheat. The sun was bright as it shaped the blue sky. The wind was light and gentle, sending waves through the flora. The mountains surrounding them, the snow capped natural formations offered an imposing size in the far distance.

In the center a tower stood. Tall and square, it shone a grey metal. Various blacked out windows on the floors.

Across the field he stood with many others by his side. They stood and stared, he did not know who he was, he did not know who the others were, he did not know where he was.

He knew only one thing.

He was there to fight.

He looked to his left, he looked to his right. Some were big and bulky, built like tanks to take punishment. Others were smaller and sleek, built to be mobile and hard to hit.

There was one thing they all had in common.

They weren't...organic.

He looked to his hands, there he could see the white pearly color with the black outlines of the connecting joints of small slender appendages jutting out of his palms. There were traces of a golden color that ran along his forearms where the two plates met.

On his left forearm three small distinct scratches ran parallel to each other.

What they meant he did not know.

He balled his hands into fists and let his arms lay by his side. His head turned to the left and right once more. One stood staring at the tower. His gray and orange plated form held a long cylindrical object with a curve at the top. Several dents ran along the shaft that showed prior use.

For what he did not know.

He turned his head to the right.

A smaller one with defined curves ran along her body. She was three colors, pink, brown and white. In her right hand a long and narrow pointed blade was held. She looked to him him with mismatched eyes of pink and white, and nodded and then turned her head back to the tower.

He turned around and he saw seven more, they were blurry but he could tell what colors they were.

Red, with a trace of black and a set of silver eyes.

White, pure snow white all around with the lightest of crystal blue eyes.

Black, shade a purple along her body with the most beautiful and cutting amber eyes

Yellow, a golden yellow much more tame to his with eyes that shifted from lilac to blazing red

Pink, with a trance of sky blue with a gentle aqua eye that held a storm.

Green, a peaceful green was all with magenta eyes that betrayed the calm and promised fury.

And the last.

A deep red stained bronze, a sense of guilt and remorse filled him as he looked her in the longing vivid and casting emerald orbs.

They all held something too, their own weapons as they came into various shapes.

What they were, he did not know. He only cared that he wielded them well.

And behind them, more just like them stood, an entire army figures glowing with outlines of light and piercing complementary eyes.

And the same applies to them.

He turned his attention back to the tower. His hands moved to his waist. A sharp click was heard and he raised his hands.

His large two handed sword was finally back in his hands. He knows not where it came from, only that it felt familiar and heavy, as if a burden was placed upon him as he carried it.

Only for voices to be begging for mercy, only to be cut by a slice in the air, then to only have their screams.

A mad laughter from a maniac, then the same sharp click, soon gave way to a frenzied voice filled with accusation.

Then a solemn sigh filled with acceptance.

All at once it filled his mind. The images flashed with quick necessity he only made out the outlines. It reminded him of the ones that stood with him.

Was he responsible for what they are?

Or were they responsible for what he was?

A crack in the air, only for a whizzing to be heard. A moment later he felt the air move by the right side of his head. Dust kicked up behind him as he knew what to do.

He stepped one foot at a time, then quickly picked up his momentum.

The others followed shortly after.

His feet pounded the ground and dirt kicked up. The low rumble of hundreds of impacts.

The war cry that ripped from his throat and the others behind him made seem if not thousands followed him.

Then chaos happened. The one to his left was struck down by a small object, but he stood up and continued.

Small patches of dirt kicked up around him as he ran. The whizzing of bullets flew by his head and he moved.

Cries of pain were heard but the sound never dwindled.

The tower grew ever closer, imposing the small amount of them that ran. There was a sense of dread. How could they take on something that size?

He did not deter however, only to push on as more cracks, booms filled the air as the sky came filled with bright lights that raced towards them. Whizzing and buzzing filled his ears, more bodies had been thrown aside or knocked down.

He lost count how many times he got knocked down, thrown, tripped or blinded. He got back up as the others had as well.

Soon he was in a court yard of some kind, a black stone path pristine with no plants or erosion.

He could see what no doubt was the entrance to the tower, and so he ran ever faster.

As he ran, he could see two golden doors. Never stopping or slowing, he angled his shoulder downward.

When he can to them, he charged through in a glorious sound of metal breaking.

All he saw was a flash of white light.

Then words in black text.

_System Repair Complete._

_Accessing Memory Backup._

_Initializing Memory Restoration._

_Hold onto something, you aren't going to like what you see._

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**Now to the dude who threaten to make me a Pa/treon, don't. I beat you to it. Like thank you but why? I'm not that great or anything and certainly don't deserve to be paid for anything. So If anyone would like to, go ahead and follow me on there or something. I'll start posting daily, some jokes, a few comics i made in past times, all for free.**

**Pa/treon name is lumely**

**This might turn into something, it might not. For right now, at this moment, Oh well, I'll go back to working on Three Kindred Souls now.**

**Again sorry about the delay on the next chapter for that one, I apologize profusely.**


End file.
